


Three Sides

by wesleyfanfiction_archivist



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-07
Updated: 2003-11-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:00:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7093414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleyfanfiction_archivist/pseuds/wesleyfanfiction_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel thinks hungrily about W/G</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What is Hidden

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Versaphile, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [WesleyFanfiction.net](http://fanlore.org/wiki/WesleyFanFiction.Net). Deciding that it needed to have a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact the e-mail address on [WesleyFanfiction.net collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wesleyfanfiction/profile).

I've watched him with Gunn everyday since I came back. I see Wesley leaning in a little too close when they talk and Gunn putting his hand a little too low on Wesley's back. Nothing outright perverted and lewd. Pretending everything's oh so innocent and oh so good. 

It's all I can do not to open up a goddamn vein. 

I wouldn't mind sinking my teeth into Gunn's cool flesh- O negative spiced with fear and attitude and love for what should be mine- drain him dry right in front of Wes and then step over the body to get to my goal, my target, my prey.

Kiss him and fuck him with the blood still on my lips and Gunn's body getting cold. Not stopping till its pallor turned from a rich golden chocolate to a chalky, greasy gray. Let Wes have a good look at what happens when he strays from me. 

But I've always wanted a good taste of Wes. It's funny that in all our time together, I never got a taste of his blood. He guarded that like a goddamn virgin in a chastity belt. 

"No teeth," he would whisper/beg/pant with ragged breath and shaking lips. Like he could stop me if I really wanted it. Like he'd ever try to stop me if I decided to lick up the blood I spilt so many times. Who are we kidding? He'd drain himself into a Super-Gulp if I mentioned even once that that'd be nice. 

But I left it alone. Let him play like he had a say in what went on. 

He didn't, and he still doesn't. He's mine to do with what I please. I’ve become so obsessed with having him back, with having everything back the way it was before I went through the craziness that was Darla. Things were so right back then but I didn’t notice. Wesley was mine, everyone worked for me and Buffy was still alive. And now everything is crashing down around me. I’m losing everything so quickly. And I know, I *know* that if I could just get Wesley back the way he was everything would fall into place. He would be mine, I would be the leader, Gunn and Cordelia would lose that is-he-about-to-go-crazy-again-? look every time I say I’m going to bed and… it wouldn’t bring Buffy back but having a warm Wesley shaped body in my bed every night would certainly help me get through it. 

He still cares for me. I know he does. I can see it in the guilty looks he gives me every time Gunn leaves the room. He still remembers all the things we did together, all the times I was there for him, and all the shit we’ve been through. 

Me. Not Gunn. This *child* comes in and puts together all the little pieces that were so much fun to play with and I'm just supposed to roll over and play dead? I don't think so. 

Wesley is too rare, too precious to give up. Not since Drusilla have I found someone who enjoys the darkness and pain the way I do. She was a born lapdog rising from the grave to lick scraps from my hand, ready to do my bidding because I made the pain feel so sweet. But I made a mistake in pairing her up with Spike. His reckless behavior rubbed off on her and I lost her. I won't lose Wesley to Gunn. Some little kid comes late to the game thinking he knows everything and tries to tell Wesley he's too good for me and all those secret, sticky things I taught him to love and fear and hate. 

He never tries those hidden tricks on Gunn. I'd be able to tell. Gunn never smells of leather and blood and pain and that special kind of arousal only those things can cause. 

He's putting those things behind him. Playing in the dark was fun for a while but he wants the lights back on now. I guess I should have told him- it doesn't work like that. 

No. If I have to I'll rip the light bulb out of the socket, smash it on the ground and use the shards to carve my name into his chest. 

Like I should have done long ago. 

Because he's mine.

Or I'm his...

So now I'm just waiting for the right time. Inventing reasons for us to work alone, giving false explanations for why I need him to work late, thinking of ways to win his trust again. Waiting till I'm close enough to break him apart. 

It’s all I know to do. 

END


	2. Locusts

BuffyAngelImprov: air – chime - orange – dark  
Challenge in a Can: Gunn – scared – shirt

I'll admit it, I'm scared. Ok, not for my life or anything- that don't happen. But I'm as scared as I've been in a long time. 

He's back. 

He's back and even though Wesley's a different person now who knows when they'll fall back into old habits? 

I can just imagine. Wesley will stay late one night and then they get to laughing about the good old days when Angel was still an asshole and Wesley didn’t have to be told twice to get on his knees and suck, one thing leads to another and *boom*- Gunn who? Oh that guy I fucked so hard his first time I made tears come to his eyes? He's no one compared to you, Angel. Just a boy to tide me over till you came back. He doesn’t fuck me the way you used to... 

Sometimes I can see it all so clearly I think it's real. I get paranoid (*me*, fucking paranoid- I'm so goddamn whipped it's pathetic) for no reason. Like one time Wes had been hobbling around on that cane of his and he stopped to rest and ended up draping an arm over Angel's shoulder. 

Now see, I know Wes 'ain't fucking around on me. He'd have to be a damn sight faster than his crippled ass is right now cause they've hardly been alone together. But even when they are it's all business- I could tell if it wasn't, Wes 'ain't that good of a liar. 

So even though I *know* he ain't, I see the way Angel looks at him and I know- more than Wes ever will- just how much Angel wants a new conquest. 

He got the old Wes easy. A kind word here, a soft look there, I don't see how it was too hard. This new Wesley, this one that I guess he helped create and that I have loved- it's a new territory for Angel to lay waste to. Like one of those fucking bugs that flies in, eats all they crops and flies away leaving a lot of destroyed earth. 

That ain't gonna happen again. Wes may not be expecting it but I am and there ain't no way that shit is ever going to go down like it did before. 

I've got to stop thinking like that. Wes wouldn’t do that to me. Not even for Angel. 

I don't even see why Angel came back. I mean, he couldn’t have gone and had his epiphany elsewhere? Or maybe stayed dark for a while longer? I know I sure as hell wasn’t begging at his doorstep. But in he came, uninvited. I knew I should have put down a sleeping bag in the back office. Would have kept all those unwanted elements out of our office. Yeah, 'our'. Not 'Wesley's', not 'Cordelia's', not 'mine'. Our place. 

So we’re back at 'Angel's place' and just 'cause he don't have the big office don't mean shit. He’s still in charge and this little atonement game is going to get real old real fast for him. I know it and he knows it- and I'd bet Wes-man knows it whether he wants to admit it or not. But I don't think he's ready to- not yet anyway. 

There’s a lot of 'what ifs' going through my head, you know? What if being around Mr. I’m-the-only-Alpha-male-allowed pushes Wesley back into his old self- the guy who couldn’t speak up to Angel to save his life. The guy I couldn't fucking stand. 

I’ve tried to tell him -show him- just how much I like this new man. A million words of support crowd into my mouth and when I open up to let them out nothing happens. They just hang there on my tongue, thickening the air, making me sick from my own cowardace. Something always gets in the way. First it was that things were so new and we were still understanding each other and I was understanding what we were (lovers, gay, life partners- there have got to be manly-er names for fucking this good), then it was the gun shot wound, then the break up with Virginia... 

So, yeah, whether he knows it or not, whether I've told him or not, I love him and I'm proud of him. I guess I'd fucking have to to do this. Washing his shirt like some little bitch. And not even cause I wanted to. I was so ready to tell him just what to do with it when Angel (always the fucking apple polisher) chimed in that he’d get out the blood. Yeah, I guess after 200+ years of feeding on humans you get to know all the interesting hints from Heloise. I’m sure Martha Stewart would love to hear all about how Baking Soda gets blood out of carpets (though from what Wesley tells me ol’ Martha’s a Grenthar demon and doesn’t have blood anyway). 

// 

"Oh dear, I’ve gotten my blood on my favorite shirt." 

"I’ll clean it off Wesley cause I’ll do anything to get on your good side and kiss your ass metaphorically 'cause we both know I want to do it literally." 

// 

That’s not exactly how it went down but it’s pretty fuckin' close. Like I really want Angel that close to Wesley's stuff again. Putting that nasty dead people stink into clothes that smell nice and fresh and clean even when they've been drug through sewer water and demon guts. 

I just got so pissed thinking of Angel running his hands over a collar I nuzzle, buttons I unbutton, sleeves I tug at... running his tongue over the dried blood and trying to get off on it. No way. That path is closed to him now- has been for a while he just doesn't know it yet. 

I think maybe he got a bit of that message when I jerked the shirt out of his hands and yelled that I could do it my own damn self. Mature, I know but I panicked. Wesley looked so happy that Angel was offering that I overreacted. 

So I'm just scrubbing away like some Aunt Jemimah, happy as a mother fuckin' lark doing Wesley's whim. I think Angel played me. He volunteered knowing I wouldn’t allow it and so he got Wesley thinking he's a great guy and me doing the laundry. It's not even a good shirt. It's that ugly orange one I keep telling him to throw out. The more I think about it the more pissed off I get. 

And scared. Yeah, I'm still fucking scared. 

END


End file.
